


Naive

by OverwatchingYouSleep



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Captivity, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Kidnapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 02:30:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15281607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverwatchingYouSleep/pseuds/OverwatchingYouSleep
Summary: Sojiro promised you he would help you escape from Gerard. You had no reason not to believe him.





	Naive

**Author's Note:**

> Request piece for anonymous. I tried out a different style of editing on this one so enjoy that :x

Of all the ails your stress caused you, by far the worst was insomnia. All hours of your day spent locked away in this bland room, nothing to do besides entertaining your captor whenever he was in the mood for it. You had no desire to spend any more time than necessary staring at the same beige walls.  
  
But your only other option was to stare at the inside of your eyelids, and that was getting you nowhere. You heaved a sigh, brooding on the misery of your situation. Gerard intended to marry you in less than a month, on a private wedding far off where he could act like you both were a normal couple. And of course, no press coverage. You were a well-known missing person, after all. He couldn't take that chance.  
  
Of course, it was rubbish to you. The promise of an extravagant wedding, a honeymoon at a private Caribbean island resort, none of it appealed to you in the slightest. In fact, it made you sick to think about. And thinking was all you could do with your eyes closed.  
  
So, you opened them, and looked around your bland room for the millionth time since you arrived. Handcuffs held you to the bed, same as every night, so you couldn't go to your little bathroom and clear your thoughts with a shower. And there was nothing in it more interesting than your own reflection.  
  
Besides your bed, the only thing adorning the room was the empty stand that meant to hold your instrument, and a dresser with your clothes. No decoration on the surface, no particular style or flair to the room save for a sky-light right above your bed. From here you could see the clear sky, bright stars scattered across the tiny rectangle. The only thing in this room that changed. As you took your time to admire every twinkle, a black blur swiped across the glass, immediately grabbing your attention. Had it been a trick of the darkness?  
  
The black shape appeared again, leaning over the glass as if peering down. So a person then, and you could guess this wasn't one of Gerard's servants. You tried your best to convey distress, kicking and making faces in hopes the figure would see and get help. But you couldn't make any noise. It was because of this, you bet, that they turned and disappeared, the darkness hiding your struggle from any chance of escape.

___

The blur was there again the next night. Once again it peered down at you, and once again you waved your shackled hands, tried to show without a word your need for help. Part of you wondered if this was a figment of your imagination. An invisible spectre, crafted solely to mock you through the only portal into the world that you had. This thought almost made you stop struggling.

But then the figure began to press the glass open, and your train of thought slammed into reverse. Help had come after all.

The figure was so meticulous as to close the window behind itself before plummeting to the floor, the drop from the high ceiling ending in a poised crouch so silent they could had fallen through the floor into nothing. But then they stood where you could see it for what it was, and that was a man, dressed from head to toe in black.

"Are you prisoner here?" he whispered. You nodded, words caught in your throat. You tugged on your chains, but the stranger didn't immediately move to release you. "A plaything of Gerard's?"

"His fiance," you choked. You expected some form of shock, but the man showed nothing. He only scoffed. Knelt beside the bed, closer to you. From here the outlines of his figure were more prominent, from his narrow build to the lump in his mask that you could only assume was a massive ponytail. He was lithe, built for the stealth he was utilizing.

To that effect, nothing on his person suggested any sort of allegiance, to a government, organization, or otherwise. That made you wary. Who else would be on the rooftop of a prolific Overwatch agent but someone there either to protect him, or eliminate him? Would either be on your side?

"I don't suppose anyone knows you're here," he suggested, to which you nodded. He looked at the door, then back to you.

"Well," he sighed, but it held not the faintest trace of weariness. It was more a man ready to set out for business. "Who you are, and who I am, those things are not important. What is important is that I am an enemy of your captor, and for that alone, I will help you escape."

Your eyes widened, but he covered your mouth before you could say anything, holding a finger over his lips. "Not tonight. But be ready. Gerard is having an event tomorrow, an event to which I am invited. Of course, I wouldn't trust him to hold a cup for me, but I don't plan to stick around long enough to get jumped by Overwatch forces."

You nodded along, letting the information sink in. He seemed pleased to know you were listening. "So, when you hear the music start, be prepared to run."

This statement was followed immediately by the man sliding beneath the bed. Before you could wonder why, you heard the lock jiggle, the bedroom door thrown open by the only man with a key. You managed to close your eyes right as the light flicked on, feigning sleepiness.

“Hmm?” you grumbled, shielding your eyes to look at Gerard. You sat up straighter when you saw what he was holding: Your guzheng.

“Oh, darling,” he cried, fainting towards the bed. Much too carefree for your liking, with such a valuable instrument clutched in his hands. "Indulge me, I'm stressed."

"What for, Gerard?" you asked. He laid the instrument across the foot of your bed, pulling the key to your handcuffs out of his pocket. The same pocket he always kept it in.

"I've been ripping my hair out over an event I'm having tomorrow," he explained, unshackling your wrists. "Damn Overwatch gives me a week to throw a party and expects catering, live entertainment, a guest list! Hell, they might as well require me to hire a circus!"

"You didn't tell me about a party," you mumbled, sitting up and rubbing your wrists once they were freed. Gerard blew a stray hair out of his eyes, circling around the bed.

"Because I can't have you there, dear. Too many eyes, you understand." He gestured grandly to your guzheng. "But if you would be so kind, I could use a relaxing tune."

You loved and hated to play for Gerard in equal parts. It was the only time he let you have your guzheng, and you cherished making music. But every song went sour at the end, where you were hit with his gentle clapping and praise. Reminded that your music wasn't for you. But even on the days where you despised it more than relished in it, you had no choice. Sliding out of bed, you picked up the instrument.

It was getting difficult to lift lately, your muscle mass melting away from being confined to this room. But with care, you were able to guide it over to its stand in the corner and lower it. Familiar golden patterns carved in the red sandalwood made your chest ache, reminded of the day your parents presented it years ago. A masterpiece of custom craftsmanship, now used to entertain a man that couldn't even pronounce it's name correctly.

Once it was settled, you brought yourself to your knees, holding out your hand expectantly.

"Something fatalistic," Gerard requested, dropping your ivory finger clips into your palm. You closed your fingers around them and slid them on, straightening your posture and letting your hands hover over the strings.

The first pluck sent your heart swimming, eyelids fluttering closed. No longer in the bedroom; you were in the courtyard behind your family's manor, cherry blossoms only just beginning to grow on the trees. The sky was cloudy, wind sliding between the trees and up your back. Carrying the notes further.

In that garden, you visualized a storm, holding it in your mind and letting it play out on the strings.

Tight, concise plucks turned to your fingers spidering up and down the zither, sliding over and under strings as you followed the melody writing itself in your head. Your breath was your metronome, your mind the composer. You had grown quite good at improvisation ever since your days had been freed to nothing but thinking.

There was something different about this song as well, something that made your heart beat faster instead of steady. Could it be your extra audience? It had been so long since you'd played for anyone other than your captor. It ruined the illusion, remembering where you were and who was here with you. It made sweat bead on your neck and your heart leap into your throat.

But you didn't miss a note.

His irritating claps started the second you lowered your hands, the last note still resounding in the room. You found it rude, but you didn't dare voice that to him. His reluctance to get his hands dirty, for whatever reason, did not extend to you.

"Beautiful," he gasped, walking up behind you. "Haunting. I could feel it in my chest."

He knelt behind you, and you turned to feel his lips on your cheek, giving a chaste kiss. He pulled away quickly, but the disgust lasted long after he stood and picked up your guzheng. The way he held it across his chest, you could read the characters carved into the back, with the same golden embellishment.

 

鏡中的花，水裡的月

_“flower seen in the mirror, moon on the water's surface.”_

“I feel much better,” he told you, turning and heading for the door. “But I still have last minute preparations to take care of, so I must bid you adieu for the evening.”  
  
He paused in the doorway, leaning back and sending you a sickening wink. “Sweet dreams, mon fianceé.”  
  
The door closed and locked, and instantly you realized that he hadn’t thought to cuff you back to your headboard. He usually came by in the morning and released you for the day, which would be in a few hours judging from your internal clock. That meant that the man could help you escape now. Taking one last cautionary look at the door, you crawled over to the bed and lifted the bed curtain.  
  
“Hey,” you whispered, “I’m fr--”  
  
The man was gone, the only motion beneath the bed was the curtain on the other side of the bed flowing in a breeze. You turned to look up at the ceiling in time to watch the glass slide back into place, as thought it had never been disturbed.  
___

 

Nothing productive came of your freedom. There wasn't a single item in your room that you could fashion into a lock pick, nothing you could use to climb to the sky light. Gerard didn't seem surprised at your freedom when he showed up with breakfast. Only greeting you as he always had, with a kiss on the forehead. The only difference was that he wasn't unchaining you while he was doing it.  
  
"Wish me luck today," he asked of you, choosing to overlook his usual morning chatter in favor of party prep. Not that you would complain. "And don't mind any ruckus you hear, I can hardly expect things to go smoothly given how little time I had to--"  
  
He closed the door on himself before he finished his sentence;  disappearing for a moment before returning to lock the door as an afterthought.  
  
You polished the tray of food, your lack of sleep making your stomach grumble at its long delayed breakfast. You were slower to get dressed, half tempted to crawl back into bed, but you knew you'd have no more success going to sleep now than you had the night before. Sitting around in a nightgown all day didn't appeal to you either.  
  
You were buttoning your pants up when you heard the sound of music from the ballroom. The man’s promise crossed your mind, slowly moving you towards the door. You pressed your ear up against it, waiting for the sound of footsteps down the hallway. But you heard nothing but the methodical walk cycles of Gerard's omnic servants.  
  
That wouldn't be good. The light chatter and laughter that soon followed was on the other side of the mansion. The party was being held two floors below you, in a ballroom on the other side of the tiny courtyard. Gerard's servants were like a hundred pairs of eyes, going up and down hallways in attempts to clean. They wouldn't hesitate to report anyone wandering all the way over here.  
  
But you had a feeling you could trust the man to sneak around them. He hadn't disappointed yet.  
  
After a while you had given up standing against the door, falling to your knees and keeping close. Every few minutes you heard a servant pass, your only indicator for how much time was passing. You knew this party was an Overwatch sting, meaning there wasn't much time left before reinforcements arrived.  
  
But of course, that brings another question to mind: What has this man done for Overwatch to want to go after him? You knew the organization was a part of the UN--they only bothered with major, international criminals. And his skills--sneaking and subterfuge-- fit that bill.  
  
The seed of doubt was just starting to sew into your heart when you heard the lock click above you.  
  
You jumped to a stand as the door opened behind you, turning and finding yourself immediately towered over. The ponytail from last night was now a mane of wild hair let loose, silver blending into black. He had opted for a deep purple suit over the standard tux, expensively tailored to accent his figure. His eyes, widened in shock, relaxed when he saw that you were ready to go.  
  
"Right, let's hurry," he said, his voice much stronger unmuffled. You followed initially, pausing only when you saw the direction he was going.  
  
"That way's a dead end!" you hissed, trying to keep your voice as low as possible. He turned around, pointing at the end of the hallway.  
  
"No, it's a window."  
  
"On the third floor!"  
  
"And your point?" He turned and kept walking without another word, leaving you speechless. You had no choice but to follow.  
  
He walked right up to the massive arch window, pulling a device out of his pocket. A bulky laser pointer, and you had guessed its purpose before he even held it up to the window. Neon blue light burst out of the tip, cutting through the glass with ease as the man began to guide in it a large circle.  
  
"The noise from the party will cover us," the man said, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. "But I wouldn't scream. I don't want to push our luc--"  
  
What sounded like a mosquito whizzed by your ear, and like a wave all the glass came shattering down at once. The stranger grabbed you and pulled you underneath him, shielding most of you with his back until the crashing stopped. Only then did you open your eyes to see your very, very angry fiance.  
  
Even from a distance it was easy to tell the silenced pistol shook in his hand. His teeth were gritting and gnashing, his aim switching from you to your accomplice.  
  
"I'm so angry I don't know who I should shoot first," he snarled.  
  
The man next to you stepped forward, kicking the dropped cutting tool out of the way as he did. "Think about this, Gerard."  
  
"Oh, I've thought plenty." You watched helplessly as Gerard's aim zeroed in on your saviors head. "I'll take a slap on the wrist to kill you, Sojiro. And no one--" his aim shifted, "--will miss you."  
  
You didn't give him a reaction.  
  
"Your omnic is behind you, recording all of this." Gerard turned to look. "If you kill me, Overwatch will--"  
  
Sojiro turned and bolted, catching you with his right arm and throwing you both out the open window. Two more shots followed, but Sojiro sent you plummeting down, kicking off the wall and landing in a crouch with you tucked close in his arms.  
  
"We have fifteen minutes before Overwatch arrives," he whispers in your ear. "I suggest we hurry."

___

Life was a whirlwind from the second you fell out of Gerard's window. From a featureless black car to the airport, slumping in your first-class seat before you even remembered to ask where you were going. When you woke up, you were in a different bedroom. But still unfamiliar. Still reminiscent in its energy, you couldn't help but jolt at it. Something about undecorated walls and near-empty rooms was going to haunt you for the rest of your life.  
  
One thing this room had that your old one didn't was a side table, upon which sat a pink kimono that both looked and felt expensive. Not that you were unfamiliar with opulence, but you hadn't expected to receive it here. After getting dressed, you left the room in time to catch Sojiro rounding the corner.  
  
"Sojiro!" you called down the hall, catching his attention. He smiled when he saw you, looking much more relaxed now that he was out of his suit. He turned and walked back over to you, placing his hand on your shoulder.  
  
"Happy to see you're feeling alright," he said. You nodded your thanks, glancing at the walls around you.  
  
"Am I in your home?" you asked.  
  
"Yes, I hope it’s not too forward," he replied, idly cracking his knuckles. "I had to retreat somewhere after your ex-fiance tried to have me arrested."  
  
"It's fine! Anywhere that isn't that room--I mean, that entire place--is fine with me." Sojiros grin was empathetic.  
  
"I can understand. Would you like to take a walk, get some fresh air?" he started down the hall without waiting for your answer, waving his hand. "I can't imagine you've had much of it these last...how long have you been held captive?"  
  
You trotted to keep up. "Oh, about 20 weeks when you found me. And...I don't have shoes."  
  
"Don't worry about that," he dismissed, gesturing down to the sandals on his own feet. "We're only going around my grounds, on dirt paths. Unless you're opposed to feeling the earth between your toes?"  
  
"Of course not," you said, picturing your own backyard garden. Sojiro smiled at you before sliding open the door.  
  
Sakura petals fluttered in around your feet before you even stepped outside, carried in wild numbers by the gentle breeze. Sojiro took his hair ribbon out while you closed the door behind you, fanning his hair out with his fingers and letting the wind catch under it.  
  
"So tell me about yourself,” he said, a question that meant something leagues different than it did a year ago. Remembering life before captivity was a pain, when in Gerard’s clutches it was all you could think about. You knew what had defined you before, but how you could go back and live the same life? As the same person?  
  
You opted for a different answer. “Well, I told you about who my family is on the ride to the airport. They had enough to put me through one of the best secondary schools in the world, which had an extensive arts program.”  
  
“Mhm?” he gestured along and you began to walk the path, cherry trees lining the left and hedges along the right.  
  
"So, I took a lot of electives on top of a high-quality education. Sewing, painting, dancing, and of course..." you sighed, mind flicking back to the zither left back in the hell you'd escaped, "...my guzheng."  
  
"Yes, you were quite skilled at playing it," Sojiro noted, ignoring the pained tug in your voice. "An admirable talent."  
  
"Thank you." You tried to smile, but your mind was elsewhere. Recalling the years you'd spent practicing, family passing through the den while you were in the middle of lessons. Your father would smile and lean against the door frame, your mother would pull up a seat and clap. And Gerard, the strange in-between that gave you the comfort of neither. The next question escaped your lips before you even processed the words. "When am I going home?"  
  
Sojiro's walk stuttered, for only a second, but enough for you to know that the question caught him off guard as much as it did you.  
  
"After a bit of rest," he responded coolly, staring straight ahead. You took a quick step forward, getting in his vision so you could look at him.  
  
"Can I call my parents?" you asked. He stopped dead in his tracks and closed his eyes, seeming to grapple with his temper.  
  
"I'm a wanted criminal, as I've said," he said, articulating every word until it felt like a punch to your gut. "I treat every communication device like its bugged, meaning no--"  
  
"Can I go home?" You were raised to believe interrupting people was rude, but you weren't going to let this stand. You had spent months listening to Gerard's roundabout excuses.  Stringing your hopes along until you thought over everything he said and realized that the answer was never "Maybe" but instead always "No." You wouldn't let Sojiro do the same thing. "Can I leave? Go home? Or am I trapped here?"  
  
"Of course not," Sojiro jolted at the accusation, stepping back. "Trapping you like an animal in a cage...how horrific. I would never consider doing such a thing." He gestured to you, restraining himself as if staying behind an imaginary line. "Beauty such as yours is meant to be free."  
  
"Sojiro," you growled, the expensive silk he gave you suddenly burning like a fire on your skin. "Can I go home?"  
  
He pressed his lips together, speechless at last. You stared expectantly, waiting for your answer, and finally he sighed. "I told you, after you rest."  
  
That was all you needed to hear. Rage was pouring into your heart. You had to leave, quickly, or you would say something you'd regret. You blew past him and ran back to his home, opening and slamming the wooden door behind you.  
  
For the second time in your life, you had been brutally betrayed.

___

Even more now than before, this room reminded you of Gerard. What was the difference? The walls and floors were crafted from different material, and you were supplied a couple more basic amenities. But at it's core it was a featureless bedroom. The same kind that you might find in a prison, with a prettier face on it.

Something crossed your mind about being fooled once and fooled again, but the phrase didn't even begin to describe your regret. You had been made an ass of. Gerard had already made you question your upbringing, to trust and believe what others say.  

Apparently he hadn't made you question them enough. Once again you had fallen into the same trap. Given yourself to a wolf in a different disguise.

You had lost track of time. It could have been hours before you heard a quiet knock on the door, Sojiro's voice coming from the hallway.

"If you would, I'd like you to join me for dinner," he said. You heard him shuffle away from the door, the lack of intrusion something that Gerard's constant pestering made you grateful for. He was leaving you the choice to attend. You wanted to take advantage of that choice and stay put, but your stomach was roaring. It had been over 24 hours since you had eaten.

You gauged his reaction as you entered the room, approaching the table with silent steps. If Sojiro was surprised to see you, he didn't communicate it. Only waited until you brought yourself to kneel at the edge of the table, picking up the kettle on the tea tray and pouring you a generous cup. In a way, he looked as troubled as you felt.

Your manners dictated you thanked him, but how could you? This man had taken advantage of your hopes to drag you from one bird cage to another. You wouldn't even be grateful for the effort he put into saving you if it was for his own ends. So, you turned your face down to your meal. He had the foresight to leave you both silverware and chopsticks, and you weren't ashamed to pick up the former.

"I must...confess," Sojiro piped up after mere moments of quiet eating. He was wringing his hands in his lap, but the uneasiness didn't reach his eyes. "When I saw you...Saw what that man was doing to you...it made me sick."

"Tell me about it," you replied, cold. Sojiro sucked in his bottom lip, swallowing his thoughts before he continued.

"I can't say, though, that me and Gerard are completely different." Shocking. Your inherited rules of etiquette were barely keeping you from slurping your drink over his voice. "The desire to keep a beautiful bird in a cage...it wouldn't be a common practice if only men like him felt it.

"But," he continued, his eyes meeting yours, "its not in your nature to be in a cage. And its not my own to put you in one."

For the briefest of moments, his eye contact sent you back to the day before, where you had seen his face for the first time. Your savior, sneaking through an enemies home to free you, not flinching when that same enemy held a gun to his head. You thought he was a hero.

But then again, you had thought the same thing of Gerard. Trapped in Sweden for your summer break, Gerard had come to your rescue. The weather was no match for his Overwatch aircraft, he had bragged, carrying your luggage for you. You would be home in time to return to your classes, leaving your attendance rate intact. It was such a heartfelt gesture, you thought. Truly selfless.

But you had been wrong then, and you weren't going to be wrong now.

"So, I have an offer for you." Sojiro's words snapped you back to reality, your heart sinking into a pool of seething. Appraising Sojiro now, you worked hard to keep a sneer off of your face. "I'll let you see your family."

From that cesspool, your heart skyrocketed, slamming into your ribs. "I'll get in contact with them so that they know you're alright. I'll have them visit at my own expense, and I won't keep you confined to my home in the meantime." The gentle smile that creeped across his face was incredibly disarming. "You'll be able to lead a normal life until they arrive."

"...And you?" you finally asked, trying not to bask too hard in the excitement of seeing your family again. "What do you want from me?"

"A chance." Already blood was draining from your face, but Sojiro went on anyways, reaching across the table and taking your shocked-still hand in his. "I want you to love me, but I will not force it. I will help you get back into a normal life, in exchange for a part in it, and I promise you--" He wrapped both of his hands around your own, "--I will prove to you that I am worthy of that part."

Your stomach was a volatile mix of distrust and elation. Excited for the idea of returning to your normal life, until a wave of doubt came and crushed it. Your lips quivered as you stared at Sojiro's hands, weighing his offer. You had heard enough sweet nothings, enough empty promises. You couldn't be sure Sojiro would follow through.

But you couldn't even begin to guess what he would do with you if you refused his offer.

"Okay," you said, voice weak. Defeated. Sojiro's smile widened twofold, bringing your hand to his lips to place a kiss on your knuckles. You allowed it, but it wasn't enough for him; he stood and made his way around the table, placing his lips on your temple. You didn't miss him putting his hand on your other cheek, the same way Gerard would, so that you couldn't turn away.

"Wonderful," he whispered. "You won't regret this."

___

He never should have fallen for the bluff.

Gerard was starting to feel like an absolute fool. He was still kicking his own ass over how clouded his judgment had gotten in that moment. How else could he have lost both his target and his fiance in the same night? That kind of bad luck didn't happen to someone with a lick of common sense. He should have checked up on you. He shouldn’t have let Sojiro out of his sight.

By far the worst of it was explaining his failure to Overwatch. The real story wouldn't go over well; your existence was to be carefully hidden. So, he had to improvise most of his excuse, which didn't please the Strike Commander or the council.

But that left him at a loss to vent about you being gone. He had nobody to talk to about it, this secret not trusted with even his closest confidants. Your room was always empty, leaving him with nothing to remind himself of you. Except of course, your instrument.

But it wasn't fondness that filled his heart when he stared at it on his bedroom dresser. Every memory of your private concerts would soon be soured by the same moment playing in his head over and over: You jumping out of a window with one of his worst enemies.

He ignored it the first dozen times he glanced over it throughout the day, but at some point the rage in his heart outgrew his sentiment and he snatched the guzheng in both of his hands. It was light, easy to lift above his head. He made to break it right over his knee.

But then, the strategist in him spoke his piece.

"No, no," he muttered to himself, lowering the guzheng back onto the dresser. "She'll be back for this."

**Author's Note:**

> Check out more @the-yandere-cryptid.tumblr.com


End file.
